Raising Kids
by Anovia
Summary: Raising kids...There are basics that everyone covers, like crying, but nobody mentions the truly difficult parts. I guess that's something that Francis and Arthur have to learn the hard way. FACE family fun.
1. Hamburgers Save Lives

**Hi. This is a new idea I had. I hope you like it. It's just going to be FACE family moments, so you know it'll be good.**

**I tried so hard to make the grammar perfect, but we all know that can never happen, so if you see any mistakes tell me. I hate to read mistakes, they turn me into a total Grammar Nazi. Tell me and I'll correct any errors. Even if they're not grammar. If they are misinterpreted personalities or something, please tell me.**

**I would love to get reviews on this chapter, it would really encourage me to write more, faster. Thank you! :) **

**Disclaimer: I have yet to take control over the anime, but I have not to given up.**

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**Chapter 1: Hamburgers Save Lives**

"I'm going to start making dinner, do you mind watching the kids?"

"Of course not."

"Are you sure?"

"What? Would you rather I make dinner? I'm completely capable of watching over two infants for a short time while you cook. Okay? Calm yourself. How hard can watching them be? They're asleep for Christ's sake!"

"Ok..." Francis said apprehensively, slowing walking towards the kitchen. "If you need help, please, don't be afraid to ask."

"If I need help? Get real, Frenchie. I get that this is hard for most people, but I'm an Englishman. There isn't a task in the world that I can't accomplish. Besides, everyone says that the hardest part about raising kids is their crying. I guess we lucked out with Alfred and Matthew because they're nothing short of angels. So go cook your little meal, Frenchman, that's about all you're good for."Arthur said watching Francis walk into the kitchen.

Francis looked over his shoulder at Arthur. "Well, that and at least one other thing that I can think of." Arthur blushed a bit, but it's not like he'd ever let Francis see _that_. He quickly turned around and went to the living room to watch the kids.

After about 5 minutes of simply staring at his children doing absolutely nothing, Arthur took out his iPod, put on his headphones, and started playing Candy Crush. He wasn't really one for playing games; in fact, he would usually choose a good book instead any day, but Gilbert had challenged him to the game, stating that only the "awesome" can win. The east German was claiming that it takes strategy and intelligence. _As if. _Arthur thought as he started the game. _If Gilbert can beat it then so I can I._

Arthur got to level 27 before becoming utterly stuck. Normally, he would stop for a while, then come back and pass the level, but this one was particularly devious. However, Gilbert called it one of the easiest of them all because there was only a time limit. All one had to do was wildly touch the screen and accumulate as many points as possible. _As a man of my intelligence, I shouldn't have to abide by a time limit! I don't like to randomly swipe things and hope for points. I have to think it through properly, dammit! _This was the third day Arthur was on that level. Just as Arthur started the game up again, Alfred slowly opened his blue eyes in his crib. After turning his head around to survey his surroundings, Alfred decided that his best course of action would be to start screaming. Arthur tried to ignore the offending sound and continued with his game. _Of all the times this kid could've cried, he chooses now?_

"Is something wrong?" Francis asked from the kitchen, his voice dripping with concern.

"No, I've got everything under control!" Arthur said, even though he wasn't planning on doing anything until he used up all the time in the time limit set for the level. Ten seconds passed and the baby's cry only increased in volume.

"Is that Alfred crying?"

"Yeah, just give me a second. I'll to get him in a moment." Another five seconds passed and this kid was quickly turning from a human to a banshee.

"Do you need any help?"

"No, I'm fine." Arthur responded immediately getting another combo in his game. Half of the time limit had already passed, so he only had 30 seconds left of his round before he could go quiet his child. If things continued as they were, Arthur was sure he could beat the game.

_I swear this kid has never once cried until today. Will he just stop already?_

"Just pick him up." Francis whined from the kitchen. "If you don't know how I can show you, just don't leave him crying like that _mon dieu._"

"You know if you pick kids up too fast you spoil them? Is that what you're trying to do? Make our child totally dependent on others?" Arthur glanced back down at his time limit. He only had 25 seconds left.

"That's only applicable if the baby is older than six months old, you know that. Now, are you going to pick him up or not?"

"Just let me beat this level."

"Beat the level? Are you insane? This is a child's life you're talking about. _Your_ child. _**Our**_ child. Play the damn game later!"

"He's not going to die from waiting a couple of seconds, ok? I'm almost done, so sod off!" Twenty seconds.

"You know damn well that if I tried to pull this kind of stunt, you'd have my head on a stick! Enough of your shit already, Arthur, pick up the kid!"

"First off, watch your language."

"You're the one who started it."

"No matter, he won't remember anyway." Fifteen seconds.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Aren't you _supposed_ to be the level-headed one?"

"Secondly, that just goes to show how little you know about me. I would never kill you. I need someone to cook and change diapers. Maybe when I can afford a personal chef and the kids are off in college..." Alfred's cries got even louder, only God knows how, and now Matthew began to stir.

"_Merde, _just pick him up!" Francis would have done it himself a while ago, but his hands were far too dirty from cooking. Five seconds.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnd, done." Arthur stated triumphantly as he dropped the game in his hands and replaced it with his son. Arthur started to walk around in circles so the baby could finally quiet down. "See? Everything's dandy. You got your knickers in a twist for naught."

"Whatever you say, just keep walking until he falls back asleep." Francis said whilst chopping carrots.

After about five minutes the weight of the infant seemed to increase at an exponential rate. _I can't possibly be so out of shape that holding a fifteen pound baby is this hard. It's my imagination; besides how long until this guy falls asleep?_ In the next two minutes Alfred fell asleep. His head was tucked into Arthur's chest and his hands were balled up into miniature fists. It was adorable. As Arthur put him in his crib, the baby began to squirm. Less adorable. Arthur put the child back into its previous position in his arms and began to move again.

Nearly twenty minutes later Arthur was pondering the height at which a baby could fall from and live. Surely someone must know. They wouldn't necessarily have to had tested it out, but it seems quite impossible that not one person on Earth knew how high of a fall a baby could take. At this point, the baby was quite heavy. _I'm going to drop him. If no one knows, then I'll be the first. I mean, we have the other one right? If I keep them in two separate rooms at all times, then I can claim Matthew as both children. Francis will never know._ Arthur debated as he continued to walk back and forth. _Who needs two kids anyway? This one's a demon in any event. I mean, if you close your eyes for a short while, that's called blinking. But who keeps them closed for minutes, then when finally put to bed, shoots them open? How can he even tell that I put him down? Damn, this guy is far too heavy to only be a baby! My arms are going to fall off. Where on Earth is Francis? _

"Hey, Frog! What the bloody Hell is taking you so long?"

"What? Can't handle the kids, eh?"

"I can to! But it, ah, shouldn't be taking this long to cook dinner."

"Well, I'm almost done. It normally doesn't take you that long because you don't worry about things you deem trivial, such as I don't know: taste, or edibility, or whether or not you'll die from eating it."

"ONE BLOODY TIME AND YOU STILL HAVEN'T LET IT GO! I SAID I WAS SORRY!"

"I had to spend a week in the hospital."

"Which is why only you cook from now on okay, I get it."

"You nearly killed me. I had to get my stomach pumped, _twice_."

"Do you know what's going to happen if you keep focusing on insignificant details like that? Hmm? You'll get worry lines, then you won't even have your looks, just your smug attitude."

"You think I'm handsome?"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU FOCUS ON? I swear I could spend all day giving you backhanded compliments and you wouldn't even care. I could probably insult you for hours, picking out every one of your flaws, but then say one nice thing at the end and you wouldn't even care."

"I didn't hear you deny it."

"Just hurry up and take your kid already. He weighs like a million pounds!"

"He's a baby. He doesn't weigh more than sixteen pounds. Are you really that out of shape that you can't hold a fifteen pound baby?"

"Not everyone lives at the gym like you, Mr. All-I-Have-To-Do-Is-Smile-And-People-Throw-Money-A t-Me."

"That's what models do. I have to work though. You just sit on your computer all day. If you're not typing, then you're criticizing others. That hardly sounds like a challenge!"

"Here we go again. I'm an editor. I am _suppose _to critique the writing of others."

"Well you don't have to look like you're having so much fun. I swear every time you take a red pen to paper you seem like a kid on Christmas Day. You were depressed for a week after you went through a novel with almost no mistakes."

"Fucking J.K. Rowling, who the Hell does she think she is..." Arthur mumbled to himself. Alfred shifted in his arms again. "Will you just take the stupid baby?! My arms are going to give out!"

Francis walked from the kitchen to living room where Arthur was making circular track marks in the rug. "The food should be done in a minute."

"Good, take Alfred."

"You seriously can't hold him any longer?"

"No, now take the baby."

"I've been watching them, feeding them, changing them, and cleaning them all by myself. I let you watch him for what?" Francis glanced at his watch. "Twenty, maybe thirty minutes, and all of the sudden it's too much?

"What happened to the great Englishman I met in high school. The one who had the eyebrows of a god?"

"I still do! Sadly I can't carry children on my eyebrows."

"With eyebrows like those, you could carry elephants."

"Shut your face!"

"Well if you can't at least do that, then it's more you have the eyebrows of a small deity, or expert magician."

"Don't you _dare_ mock my eyebrows. Now, take the kid!"

"_Non_, if you can't carry your kid for half an hour, how can you expect to raise it?"

"You can do that! I'll be moral support. Now take the kid."

"I've seen your moral support, it's the reason you didn't become a teacher."

"What, because I don't believe in awards for last place? If you ask me, if you didn't win then you lose. Back in my day, there wasn't even a second place trophy. Well Alfred, you lost horribly, but at least you played the game. Here's your participation trophy. Like Hell I'd give my son a participation trophy! If he came home with one of those I'd it burn in front of him."

"Yeah, I can definitely see how that encourages people. Go on, you'd be great moral support. I mean if I was a ten year old kid, how can being reprimanded for an hour and watching my award burn in front of my very eyes do anything but boost my morale?"

"I'm glad that you finally understand, now take it already."

"Excuse me?"

"Take Alfred or I'll drop him."

"That's not what you called him a second ago."

"What?"

"You called him an it!"

"Firstly, if you heard, why did you ask me to repeat myself? You're a waste of time. Secondly, so what if I did?"

"He's our son! Not an inanimate object. You of all people should know the English language; after all it _was_ your major. Wouldn't calling a person an _it_ be grammatically incorrect?"

"That is true, _technically. _Maybe I'll start caring when _you_ start holding him!"

"Are you telling me that you seriously can't hold your own chi-_ Mon Dieu!_" Francis cried wide-eyed as Alfred fell from Arthur's hands. He luckily landed on a thick hamburger shaped pillow which was a gift for Alfred as a sort of insult from Gilbert, as he knows how much Francis hates fast food. The fall couldn't have been more than one foot as Arthur was already hovering over the couch. For a moment, neither Francis nor Arthur spoke. They only watched in shock as their infant rolled over smiling, attempting to hug the pillow as if he comprehended that it had just saved his life.

***Twenty Years Into the Future***

"How can you eat that?" Matthew said with disgust.

"Hmm?" Alfred said with his mouth full of hamburger.

"That's like your tenth one in the past hour. How can you do that?"

"You do the same thing with pancakes."

"Yeah, but people buy pancakes in stacks. You don't buy a stack of hamburgers."

Alfred responded by pointing at a stack wrappers of what used to hold hamburgers.

"NORMAL PEOPLE! Normal people don't buy that many hamburgers. Why do you even like them?"

"I don't know... something about them is … I don't know how to put it. Comforting, like it makes me feel safe. If that makes any sense."


	2. Skydiving Horses

**Wow, I finished this chapter many years earlier than I thought I would... Ok, so here's the thing: These chapters are really hard to write. Reviews are like the batteries that keep me going. People who have followed me, I would like to thank you. A special shout out to MyChemPoison23 and Haiti2013; thanks for all the encouragement.**

**I tried so hard to avoid mistakes, so please tell me if the grammar is bad or if there is anything you don't like.**

**Disclaimer: I am, in fact, awesome.**

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**Chapter 2: Skydiving Horses**

Francis had just finished his shower and was halfway through getting dressed when Alfred started crying. As always, Arthur was nowhere to be found. He quickly ran to his child without bothering to put on a shirt.

"Shh, quiet down Alfred." Francis coaxed as he picked him up. "You've been crying a lot since Arthur held, or more like dropped, you. Are you scared of him? Don't worry. The only things scary about him are his eyebrows."

"What's scary about me?" Arthur said dropping bags near the entryway of the nursery.

"Where did you fly off to?"

"I had to go to the store and pick up some stuff for our kids, like..." Arthur began sticking his hands into one of the bags he had brought with him. "a nail clipper. They make them special for babies."

"What is exactly is the point of those?"

"To clip nails. I would think even you could understand that."

Francis glared at Arthur for a moment, before deciding to let that one slide. "I _meant_ why do we need special nail clippers for babies?"

"They're safer."

"How is that exactly?"

"The big part at the end makes it easier to grip."

"Yeah, but it's not like Alfred's cutting his own nails."

"Well, I guess, but now your fingers won't slip while cutting his nails."

"What nails? They're still nubs! Also, how often do you cut your fingers? Hmm? When do ever go, man I wish these clippers had more friction; then I wouldn't cut my fingers all the time?" Alfred, still in Francis' hands, decided that he was uncomfortable and started to move around a bit, using his nails for friction.

"Um... I've never actually-"

"Good, because I never had. So why would we need these?" Alfred began to scratch up Francis' bare chest.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Arthur said trying to change the subject.

"I _was_ getting dressed, but then Alfred started crying. Since you're never around when that happens by some miracle, I had to pick him up." Francis said getting more irritated as Alfred clawed into his body. "_Merde!_ Would you just stop it already?!" Francis yelled furiously.

"Calm down Francis. What's wrong?"

"This kid! He's decided that I have too much skin and made it his mission to remove as much as possible."

"What?"

"He's scratching me."

"How? Did you just say his nails aren't long enough to be cut?" he smirked, knowingly.

"THEY AREN'T! That's what makes this so awful. I have no idea how he's doing it, but he is, and it hurts. A lot."

"He's a baby. It can't possibly be that painful."

"You'd think so, but Alfred here isn't a normal child."

"Look, if he was doing anything then there would be marks near your collarbone." Arthur said examining Francis' chest. "Not a scratch."

"Well, it still hurts, so take him."

"Why? So he can scratch me up? No thank you."

"Believe me; nothing can get through that sweater vest. It's safer than Superman's fort of solitude."

"How do you mean?"

"That thing never comes off! I used to have my friends notify me if you were wearing it so I could tell you that I was sick. I remember though, there was one time that I did try...how did that night end again? Oh right, all my china was broken, and I had to get a cast on my right leg."

"That's what you get for wanting to do it all the time."

"Mhmm, tell me something, why is it I'm always the one who gets hurt?"

"I beg your pardon."

"The time we went to my favorite restaurant, you got it burned to the ground. Then I had to go to the hospital for burns."

"Doesn't fucking matter anyway. Whatever happens, your skin always comes out flawless." Arthur mumbled to himself angrily.

"What did you say?"

"They didn't have fish and chips? If it were up to me, that place would have never existed in the first place."

"That's not a valid reason to burn a restaurant to the ground."

"It was a French restaurant!"

"Exactly!"

"So you admit it was your fault? Bringing an Englishman to that namby pamby place? You were practically begging me to burn it down."

"I did nothing of the sort!" Francis raised voice, startling a sleeping Matthew. The timid baby opened his eyes and proceeded to tear up. Rule number one, which every parent should know, never wake a sleeping baby.

"Besides, it's not like anyone died..."

"_Merde_, Arthur take Alfred."

"Did I not say that I wasn't going to take the baby already?"

"Look, we've got less than a minute. Take Alfred so I can feed Matthew."

"I can feed Matthew."

"No, you can't. You can barely hold Alfred. Now take him."

"And what if I-" Arthur was interrupted by the shrill cry of an upset Matthew.

"TAKE ALFRED NOW!"

"Fine." Arthur resigned, taking the infant from Francis' arms. Immediately Francis took Matthew and started bouncing him around in what appeared to be a futile effort to stop the baby's ear piercing screams.

"Are you happy now?!" Francis yelled over Matthew's cries. Francis quickly scanned the room for what he thought was a necessity. He spotted the item in the same crib he had recently removed the baby from. As soon as he found a pacifier he stuck it in the child's mouth. "Can you please just hand me that bottle in the cup over there?"

"Whatever, you didn't need to flip out on me like that." Arthur said, handing Francis the bottle.

"If you had just taken Alfred the first time, I wouldn't have had to, but no. You just had to have things your way." Francis stated taking a seat, as to easily feed his child.

"Yes, because my way is the right way."

"Of course it is. What's that?" Francis asked tilting his head towards a red cloth not interested in starting an argument.

"Hmm? Oh, that's a gift from Gilbert. After he heard about the incident with Alfred he deemed that hamburger a superhero and dubbed it Super Burger. So he bought a cape for it."

"Oh, that reminds me. You're not allowed to go out drinking unless the kids aren't home."

"What?"

"You know how you get once you've got a couple drinks in you. Although that's fun and everything for a college student, when you have kids, it's best if they don't see you when you're piss drunk."

"I can handle my alcohol!"

"Coming from the man, whom after only one shot of whiskey, was stripping on a barstool to the beat of _Let's Get Physical,_ that's kind of hard to believe."

"I don't remember that."

"No? I do, because the next morning I found you asleep on a statue with a lampshade on your head. I had to drag your ass back to my room and put you to bed properly. That was only the first time we went drinking together."

"None of this happened."

"What's the craziest time I can think of? Let's see... the one where you went skydiving with a horse. May he rest in peace."

"_If_ that did happen, it's probably because it seemed like a good idea to jump off a plane and instead of landing, keep going by riding a horse. If that worked it would've been awesome."

"Oh it did work. You and Gilbert both did it. However, Gilbert stayed with his horse and tricked out a parachute to fit the horse. You pushed yours off the plan and said 'fly my pretty'! Then continued on about how you were about to create a Pegasus."

"Well, you see what you just said. Gilbert was there. You know he's a bad influence. It's your fault for introducing us."

"My fault? You lived at the bar! Whether I introduced you or not, you would've met. It doesn't matter though; you can't do those things anymore. No more elephant racing, lamppost talking, phone defenestrations, cooking, holes to China, Listerine chugging, and/ or mirror punching."

"I wasn't even drunk when-"

"No more building jumping, people puppets, German Sparkle Parties, jellyfish hugging, trampoline rooms, ceiling walk-"

"I get it already!"

"Do you really? You say that every morning after."

"I'm a gentleman. Gentlemen don't lie. It's not our way."

"Really? Hmm. That's odd. I remember once you said that a certain meal wouldn't kill me."

"How can you still be on that? Do everyone a favor; build a bridge and get _over _it! Besides, you're still here aren't you?"

"Only because I called 911 in advance!" Francis replied putting the bottle down to burp Matthew.

"See? The problem isn't my cooking; it's the speed of the ambulances. Everything is now resolved, so stop bringing it up. Geez, you're like a dog with a bone. Let it go. How would you feel if I kept on bringing up your mistakes?" Arthur said walking towards the crib to place the now sleeping Alfred.

Francis raised his right eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face. "What mistakes?"

"Ugh, psh, there's a long list of them. I don't even know where to start?"

"Choose one."

"Well, there's the time that... um... Oh my God!" Arthur exclaimed as he dropped Alfred. As luck would have it, the baby landed safely on the hamburger for the second time.

"What the Hell, Arthur? You are so lucky that that stupid hamburger is always there to save your ass. I understand that it must be really hard for you to find a flaw in me, but seriously? Putting your child's life in danger?"

"I did nothing of the sort! The _child_ pushed away from me and rolled out of my grasp!"

"Sure he did. If you really didn't want to hold him, put him down. Or did you think killing him off would free you from babysitting duties forever? You would've been right. Never, hold him again. If I need help, I'll call someone over. Just go read or something." Francis said placing the sleeping Matthew in his crib, then pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"He was in my arms, fine, until he decided that he wanted to die! He was just sitting there, then all of the sudden, nope. He pushed me away, as if to say, 'Yeah, I'm bored with life. Here, let me try something new. This death thing everyone is talking about sounds nice'."

"So, you're saying that our baby would rather commit suicide than be held by you? I told you that you should've shaved those atrocities off your face." Francis said leaving the room that contained the two sleeping infants as Arthur followed him out.

"Why do you always have to insult my eyebrows?"

"Is that what they are? I always assumed that a pair of caterpillars had crawled on your faced and died, and you just never bothered to remove them."

"Oh yeah, Mr. Perfect-Hair? Well guess what? Your perfect hair? It isn't as perfect as you think! Yeah, what do you think about that huh? It's not as funny when it's you, is it?"

"No, of course not. That... that was supposed to be an insult right?"

"Yeah!"

"Yes? Well, then it really hurt my feelings. Is that what you wanted?"

"What I want is for you to shut up."

"Sooooo, what I'm hearing is that you want me to use my lips for something else." Francis cooed while placing his hand on the nearest wall to block Arthur's path. It suddenly became apparent to the Englishman that his husband wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Is that all you ever think about? Honestly, I wonder what would happen to you if your thoughts had to be kept PG."

"I would think less," Francis said bringing his hand up to the other's face to hold it up. "and do more." As Francis leaned in for a kiss, he heard Alfred cry. "_Merde_, I say we ignore them." The Frenchman suggested as he kissed up his lover's neck.

"What? No, that would be irresponsible."

"You're the one who said picking them up too soon would spoil them."

"And now I say it's irresponsible."

"Says the man who dropped his child twice."

Arthur replied to his by shoving Francis to the ground. [Read as 'Keep your filthy hands of me you whore!'] "Hmm?" The noise was barely heard over Alfred's crying. "Go get him. I'm going to bed."

"Fucking cockblock." Francis mumbled to himself as he got up and brushed himself off. He turned back towards the nursery to go pick up Alfred.


	3. First Words

**Hi! I'm back! I didn't give up on this story! However, if you see random times without updates, 1 of two things happened. 1) I'm sulking over how no one likes my writing because of the small amount of reviews I get, or 2) I ran out of ideas. However, the second option is quite unlikely. I am a fluff generator... most of the time.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! Okay, this story is mine, and so it the laptop and the headphones, and my- you know what. I own plenty! I just don't own Hetalia yet.**

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**Chapter 3: First Words**

Alfred was five years old, and had yet to say his first word. Such a fact scared Francis (Alfred was taken to be tested several times, but everything checked out), but Arthur was fine with that. He would even go as far as to say he preferred it that way. It meant silence all the time. Whenever the two would split up the kids, Arthur would automatically choose the eldest child. That's how the Brit ended up watching Alfred while Francis was out at the pediatrician's with Matthew.

Arthur sat at his computer typing away. He was writing comments for the story he was editing. Alfred had come up and was watching him work. After he bored of this, he began playing on another chair in the home office. The silence was rudely interrupted with a telephone ring. Arthur quickly picked up the phone, smiling at Alfred's good behavior while he did.

"Hello?"

"Yes, I'm actually working on it now."

"A couple more hours, I don't know. Why?"

"Today?"

"Shit shit shit shit shit. Ugh," Arthur ran his fingers through his hair.

"Shit!" Alfred exclaimed excitedly. The Brit dropped the phone and stared at his child. That was Alfred's first word.

"Shit shit shit!" The child continued.

"Stop! Stop it! Shut up!"

"Shut up!" The infant parroted.

"Hello?!" Yelled the man on the other side of the unattended phone.

"I'll get it done when I can. It's your bloody fault for not telling me sooner!" The Englishman stated hastily before slamming the phone to end the call.

What do I do? If Francis finds out, he'll flip. Arthur thought worriedly as he passed his hand through his hair to think. _Taping his mouth shut is out of the question. _

Another phone went off, this time it was Arthur's cell. He recognized the caller by the pre-selected ring tone, _Shut Up and Sleep With Me_ by Sin with Sebastian.

"What do you want frog?"

"I'm on my way home and wanted to know if you needed anything."

"Ugh." This was the perfect chance for Arthur to stall his husband. In short it was a godsend; a moment where the universe finally started cooperating with the Englishman. "If I needed anything I would've told you in advance. Stop procrastinating and get your arse home already! You have to start with dinner." The Brit stated, ending the call right after. Sadly, Arthur wasn't quick on his feet. Crap._ What the fuck did I just do? I should've sent him on some crappy errand. Actually..._ Arthur picked up his phone and called the number he had under speed dial.

"Francis?"

"_Oui_, I'm on my way, _n'inquiète pas_."

"Like I'd worry about you. No, I need you to get some things for me."

"Didn't you just say-"

"There's your problem right there. You're always living in the past. Clearly if what I say now contradicts anything I said previously, new information was added into the mix. I need Taiwanese peanuts, diapers, a 17 GB flash drive, and 13 balloon animals. Don't ask."

"Er, ok. Is that it?"

"Yes."

"For sure this time?"

"Bloody git, I said yes already!"

"Didn't you just say not to live in the past?"

"What did you just do right there? Quote the past. You never learn."

"Ok, clearly I was the one in the wrong. I'm not sure how I didn't see that. Also, it's funny that you asked for those exact things, because I met Antonio and Gilbert while shopping, and they put all those things in my cart."

"What?" Asked the dumbfounded Englishman.

"Yeah, they found those exact things and threw them into my cart claiming that if I was awesome enough to be their friend, I would know what to do with these."

"Ummm, uhhh, I-I ok."

"Great, I'll see you in a bit. I love you."

"Whatever. Just, ugh."

Arthur massaged his temples in an attempt to hatch a plan. It was completely quiet except for the random 'shit' here and there from Alfred.

When Francis got home Arthur was faxing papers humming happily to himself.

"Someone had a nice day."

"I was a bit upset at first, but then things quieted down. How was the pediatrician's? Is Matthew ok?"

"Oh yeah, everything's fine. I got the stuff you asked me for and- where's Alfred?" Francis asked scanning the surrounding area, dropping the grocery bags.

"Who's Alfred?"

"Arthur, this is no time for your jokes. They're never funny. Where is he?" Francis asked walking upstairs towards what used to be a nursery, but was converted into Alfred's bedroom.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Arthur suggested running after his husband. "Why don't you go make dinner?"

"Move away from the door Arthur."

"You know what we should do? Have sex. Right now, let's go." Francis seemed to contemplate it for a moment before realizing his situation.

"Matthew's here! What kind of words are you trying to teach these kids?"

"I-I just, let's go somewhere else then."

"Alfred?" Francis questioned timidly, tugging at the door, ignoring Arthur. "Did you lock him in there?!" The Frenchman yelled at Arthur.

"In my defense-"

"No! Nothing you can say would ever explain why you'd lock a five year old in a room by himself. That's-that's child abuse!"

"How? I didn't hurt him. It's basically a time out. He's only been in there for about fifteen minutes to half an hour," Arthur stated matter-of-factly, handing the room key to his significant other.

"Half an hour?! Really? Was it that hard to handle one kid?"

"Daddy!" Alfred exclaimed, running for Francis as he opened the door. Francis was caught so off guard he didn't move to hug his child back.

"Was that his first word?"

"Yes!" Arthur exclaimed, pointing lively at his son. The forgotten Matthew simply walked past his parents and went took take a nap in his room. "That is the very first word to come out of his mouth."

"I know another word." Alfred said surprising everyone. He smiled widely and extended his arms upwards to show that he wanted to be picked up. Francis lifted him so that they were both at eye level, not daring to say a word. He simply watched with amusement. The young child pointed to Arthur. "Daddy taught it to me today." Arthur's eyes went wide as he realized what was about to happen. _This little kid barely said his first words and he's already blackmailing me? The brat! Oh God. I bet he was planning this from the very beginning. I knew he was too well behaved. Damn it what do I do?_

"Hey Alfred. Do you want hamburgers?"

"Yay! Lots and lots!"

"You can have as many as you want."

"Wait, what did you teach Alfred today?" Francis interjected.

"Thank you. Daddy taught me that. Daddy teaches me lots of words, so I want lots of hamburgers!"

Francis walked behind the excited child that raced out of the room.

"When did he learn to speak?" Francis asked Arthur curiously.

"I don't have a clue..."

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**A/N: Two things. **

**1)If it's not clear in the story, Alfred can speak, he's just been waiting for a moment where he could blackmail Arthur.**

**2)I wrote the date that happened between Francis and Arthur that was mentioned in chapter one. It's called Dinner Date! READ and REVIEW if you dare, or if you don't dare.**


	4. Babysitting

**Hey! I live! Isn't that amazing? Someone told me that this story needed more Canada... I spent a week researching that mysterious country. I heard of a who? and Canadia... I got a research team and am still trying to find said 'country'. In the meantime, I thought this FACE was a little short on Spamano, so without further ado, I give you, awesomeness. R&R **

**Disclaimer: By awesomeness I in no way implied that Prussia would be in this chapter... I'm sorry if I led you on.**

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**Chapter 4: Babysitting**

"Ok, you have our numbers, so if anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to call," Francis said to the two teens in front of him.

"Like anything could go wrong. Who the fuck do you think I am? Some pansy ass mother fucker who can't watch two kids for one night. Fuck no."

"Um, Lovino, for the rest of the night, you're going to be around kids. Please refrain from cursing."

"The fuck did you just say?"

"It'd be much appreciated if you could clean up your speech, just for tonight anyway."

"What? You don't fucking think I can control my language? I can do whatever the fu-freak I want. I'm not some dumbas-asp who has to curse all the fudging time. See? I'm already better."

"Are you coming? We're going to be late for the ceremony!" Arthur yelled impatiently from the car.

Francis eyed Lovino suspiciously for a moment before accepting the fact he would have to trust the Italian and leave.

"Please, don't burn the house down, we'll be back soon," the Frenchman requested before finally heading towards the vehicle to join his husband.

"Why wo-" the brown eyed teen began before he was interrupted.

"Okay, have fun!" screamed Antonio, in a waving fit. "Come on, we probably shouldn't leave them alone for too long."

Once both parents were in the car and buckled in, Arthur turned on the ignition.

"What if something goes wrong? I mean, they're both teens. What if they lose track of Matthew or if they start feeding Alfred too many hamburgers?" Francis looked out the window, worriedly examining all the possibilities.

"Try to keep calm," the Brit reassured. "We'll be back by soon enough. They can't possibly do that much damage."

"I suppose you're right," Francis told himself aloud. He shifted in his seat to look straight ahead. "Nobody's perfect, they can't possibly mess up too badly."

Antonio grabbed his lover's hand and pulled him inside before any protesting was possible and Lovino locked the door behind them.

Alfred walked up to his temporary caretakers with a stuffed alien in his hands and red cape tied around his neck, dragging on the floor behind him and a big smile on his face. "Let's play a game."

"What did you have in mind?" Lovino asked in an attempt to be nice.

"Hide and Seek!" Alfred grinned.

"Ok."

"If we win, we get to be your babysitters, but if you win, we'll listen to what you say."

"What? No deal."

"Why not? You think you're going to lose to two kids?"

"Like I'd ever lose to you," Lovino asserted. Antonio and Matthew just stood watching the two others talk. The Spaniard was smiling like he was on top of the world and Matthew was cowering behind his brother.

"Then it's a deal." The two shook hands and began the game.

Ten minutes later Alfred was lying on the couch, legs raised and staring at his nails. "Did I forget to mention that Matt's really good at this game?"

"No ship!" Lovino hollered while checking under the kitchen cabinet.

"He isn't anywhere up stairs. I checked everywhere big enough for a person to fit like you said," Antonio worried, walking down the stairs.

"Maybe you should give up," Alfred grinned. He rolled over so that he was lying on his stomach and propped his head up with his arms.

"I can find one fudging kid by myself!" the Italian protested.

"Okay, take all the time you want, but I can guarantee that you won't find him on your own."

"We don't need any of your help, ok? We'll definitely find him." The phone rang and Lovino immediately answered.

"Hello?"

"_Salut_, this is Lovino, _non_?"

"Yeah, Francis right?"

"_Oui,_ I just wanted to call and check in on the kids."

"They're sleeping," Lovino lied immediately.

"Both of them?" Francis questioned, a bit concerned.

"Yes, both of them," the Italian argued, not willing to go back on what he said.

"Did you drug them?"

"Of course not! They were tired, so they took a nap."

"Even Alfred?"

"The fudge did I just say? When I said both, what did you hear? Both means two, unless there's a third kid you forgot to mention, Alfred and Matthew are those two."

"Ok, then I guess I'll talk to you again when I get back."

"Whatever," Lovino deadpanned, hanging up.

An hour passed and Matthew was nowhere to be found. Alfred had taken a nap and was waking up.

"Did you find him?" the child asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Lovino, this is serious, we haven't seen the kid in an hour, and maybe we should give up. What if he hid somewhere outside and was taken?"

"Outside! I didn't think to look there!" the brown-eyed teen exclaimed, rushing to the door.

"You're wasting time. He isn't outside. Just give up."

"I'm NOT giving up!" Lovino yelled, noticing the door was still locked. He then continued to search for the five year old.

"I give up," the Spaniard stated plainly.

"Good, game over." Alfred sat up properly.

"I didn't give up!"

"He's on your team, so he gave up for the team," the child stated matter-of-factly.

"You see what you did tomato bast-jerk? You made us lose!"

"I got tired of playing. It's already eight o'clock and I'm hungry."

"Whatever," grumbled the Italian. "Where is he?"

Alfred pointed right next to him at a brother that the guardians hadn't seen a moment ago.

"He was not standing there the whole time. I call BS!" Lovino yelled enraged.

"No, he went to sleep when the game started, I just woke him up a few moments ago," Alfred admitted.

"He wasn't even trying?" Lovino asked furiously.

"He's just that good. Now I have more important matters to discuss-"

"Aren't you like two? What the Hell is up with your speech? You speak like a teenager."

"As a hero, I have to do everything amazingly, now don't interrupt me! You are now my slave."

"What?"

"We made a deal. If we won, which we did, you would do anything we said."

"Like Hell I'm doing that!"

"We promised. It's only fair, besides Lovi, how bad could it be?" asked Antonio innocently.

"I'm hungry," Alfred stated bluntly.

"Oh, here." Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out a tomato.

"I want _real_ food."

"Like what?"

"Is that enough?" Lovino backed away from the mountain of burgers on the table.

"More!" Alfred yelled, playing a whipping sound from his phone.

"Greedy son of a bitch, who even gives a six year old a phone?" Lovino mumbled going back to flipping burgers.

"What did you say?" asked Alfred.

"No one can even eat this many hamburgers! You will explode, then you do you think is going to have to clean that up? I can tell you one thing; it is _not_ going to be me."

"Uh huh, less talking, more flipping," Alfred said, quickly losing interest. He walked over to the pile and started eating.

"Lookie, Alfred! Antonio let me take a bath in maple syrup!" Matthew ran into the room in underwear and was drenched in the sticky liquid. "Mr. Kumajii! Look at me!" The boy hugged his polar bear plushy, getting syrup all over it.

"You got your stuffed animal dirty," Antonio stated pointing at the brown stain.

"No!" Mattie cried tears welling up eyes.

"Don't cry, I'm sure we can get the stain out," the Spaniard said in a failed attempt to be reassuring.

"No! Idiot! Why would you grab a burger from the bottom of the pile?!" Lovino yelled as Alfred took another hamburger.

"We're home!" Francis yelled, opening the door to the sight of a wailing, syrup-covered Matthew and an enormous toppled over pile of hamburgers.

"See what did I tell you?" Arthur asked walking in around Francis. "Every- OH MY GOD! What happened?"

"Where's Alfred?" the Frenchman asked coming out of his phase of temporary paralysis.

"Here..." a faint voice said from somewhere under the pile of meat and bread.

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**A/N: I would like to thank everyone for reviewing! I try to thank everyone personally in a PM, but some people review as guests, that's awesome! Thank you to all the guests who like my story!**

**Thank you to MyChemPoison23, Bluebacon, Tweedee (Guest), Sora Resi, Elizabeth Duchanne, The American Bastard, Coin1996, Scarlet Silverweaver, AnAccurateRumor, I'm gonna raichu a story, Kitten1313, CookieMonster Needs Rehab, AllMyDeadCatsZ, and Haiti2013 for reviewing my story! It really encouraging and really gave me the push I needed to write this!**

**It is finished! This was my final chapter :(, but I have a bunch of other stories with lots of humor, so go check those out! :D**


	5. The Troll and The Ninja

**I am so sorry! I really meant for this to be over! I just... everytime I think I'm done, I get drawn back in. I guess I'm just a sucker for reviews. I think the real reason I continued this story was because of ****Elizabeth Duchanne. I was PMing her and she sad that the fact that this story was over upset her. Those words like resonated in my head for like, ever. I would not go away! I tired the Switzerland thing: put a bucket on my head and hit it repeatedly. Nothing. So I called on forces of all things funny! Haiti2013 and MyChemPoison23. They helped me with their occasional beta reading, pep talks and tomato throwing. Like, legit tomato throwing. I don't know where they were keeping them. I don't know where they were coming from. We weren't even in the same room most of the time! Now everything I own smells like tomatoes... no matter how much I wash it. :(**

******Also, in this story, they're like 1-2 years old. I never promised to write this in chronological order.**

******Disclaimer: I said everything I own smells like tomatoes. Does Hetalia smell like tomatoes? I think not.**

******Word to the wise: I am a fluff machine that runs on reviews!**

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**Chapter 5: The Troll and The Ninja**

"I have to step out for a photo shoot. I'll make it as quick as I can," Francis said, grabbing a bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Whatever..." Arthur stated, not really caring.

"Do you think you can handle watching both of them?" the Frenchman asked, stopping in front of the door.

"Didn't you just put them to sleep?" the Brit questioned; closing the book he was reading and adjusting himself in his armchair.

"_Oui._"

"Then I'll be fine," Arthur explained as he stood up.

"Alfred isn't the type to stay asleep for long," Francis warned.

"I feel like I spoke and you weren't listening. I went to all those parenting thingies that you made me go to. I'm a responsible adult! I will be fine. Leave already."

"Okay... but I won't be gone too long."

"Clearly, you're never going to leave!"

"I'm going, I'm going. Yeesh. Aren't you going to miss me?"

"I can't miss you if you're still here!"

"Fine," the Frenchman sighed, leaving his home.

"I suppose I should probably get to editing that story." Arthur took his laptop up to the Nursery and began to comment on the novel in front of him. It didn't take too long for Alfred to wake up and start crying; the Briton immediately went over to pick up his child.

"Hey Al," he began as he removed the boy from his crib and began to bounce him in his arms. "Let's stay quiet so Mattie can sleep, okay?" The Englishman brought the child back to his seat, and placed the boy on his lap. He kissed his son on the top of his head and continued to edit his story. Alfred apparently was against the idea of sitting quietly because he started wailing. The Brit pushed the chair back and tried bouncing the child again. He calmed down soon enough, and Arthur tried to edit once again. Big Mistake. Alfred started to cry once more.

This cycle was repeated until the editor finally gave in; he got up and started walking around the room. That didn't help, if anything, the boy started to scream louder.

_ What's up with this kid? He could be hungry, yeah, that's it. When was the last time Francis fed him? It must be hunger._

The Englishman took a seat in the lazy boy on the other side of the room, next to the jars of baby food. As soon as Arthur was seated, the crying stopped. The Brit stared at his child for a good minute or so.

_You were just trolling me? Okay, I see your game... you may have won this round kid, but I'll even the score eventually. Wait until you're older and want to go to that cool party that all your friends are going to. I bet it would be really awesome and exciting. You'll never know though, because you can't go! And you know what I'm going to say if you ask? Because I told you so!__ And that time you want to go on a date with that really cute person that you've had a crush on forever, you'll be grounded for some really stupid reason, like getting a C in Math. That time when you'll be like everyone has a phone but me. I'll give you a phone; a Nokia phone! The kind with only two uses; to call people and break walls._

It was almost as if Alfred understood what his dad was thinking, because he started to cry once again. The parent took this as a sign that he indeed wanted to be feed and opened a jar of baby food; pea flavored. Either the kid wasn't hungry, or he hated this food with a passion. Each time the Brit tried to bring the food to Alfred's face, it was met with a closed mouth and slap to the spoon.

"Come on, eat, it's really good, see?" Arthur took a spoonful of the puke green substance and immediately spit it out. It took half a minute of coughing for the Brit to regain his composure. "Bloody Hell! That's worse than my cooking!"

(Side note: Nothing is worse than Arthur's cooking. _**This side note was brought to you by a fangirl who really doesn't want to start on her summer reading ; ) **_ For an example or examples of how terrible of a chef Arthur is, check out Dinner Date by Anovia and/or Fifteen Tries by I'm going to raichu a story.)

Alfred was laughing at his dad's stupidity. The laughter caused Arthur to remember what he should have been doing and he laughed nervously. "Daddy was just kidding. This is really good," he said with his best fake smile. The adult took another spoonful, opened his mouth, and moved the plastic utensil so it looked like he ate it, but in reality he only ran it past his cheek. He quickly put the spoon back into the jar. "Now, you try." The Brit picked up the spoon and brought it up to his child's lips. Alfred just sat there. Mouth closed. Not amused.

"I bet your brother will eat!" Arthur put the food down, picked up Alfred, and walked over to Matthew's crib. Matthew's empty crib. To say Arthur was a little shocked was an understatement. He had a mini heart attack.

The Briton placed Alfred in his crib and searched the house. He spent twenty minutes searching the house and eventually, flipped his ship. Literally. Arthur was looking for a boat to buy. but only got around to getting a three foot tall model of it. In his search for his son, he turned his whole room upside down, ship included.

He had to pause his search momentarily to go get a crying Alfred.

_Is that all this kid does? Cry? It's fucking annoying! He should stop already!_

Arthur was about to call the police when he heard the front door open. The Brit ran downstairs, his husband was home.

_Dammit._

"How did everything go?" Francis asked, dropping his bag on the floor and locking the door behind him.

"Peachy, how was your shoot?" the Englishman inquired, trying to act as calm as possible.

_There's no way he could've even gotten out of that crib. Where is he?_

"It was great. Is Matthew still asleep?" Francis asked as he took of his coat and hung it up.

"Yeah," Arthur nodded.

"Where is he?" the blond questioned.

"Well, since he's _still_ asleep, from the last time you put him to bed... I think he's somewhere on the ceiling. What do you think?" the Brit remarked sarcastically.

"I'll go check on him," the Frenchman stated, already heading towards the stairs.

"Why?" the sandy blond asked, following apprehensively.

"I want to see him."

"You really shouldn't pick favorites. Why don't you go see Alfred? You didn't even ask where he was," Arthur said in a poor attempt to change Francis' mind. The Frenchman stopped and turned to face his husband.

"You're holding him," he reasoned.

"Fine then! Makeup excuses for your blatant favoritism! See if I care!"

"Where's Alfred?" Francis asked dryly.

"Are you freaking blind?! He's in my hands you twit!"

Francis shook his head, mentally reprimanding himself. "Honestly, I don't know why I bother sometimes... If you need me, I'll be in the nursery, with Matthew."

" Go check on him! You obviously think I'm a liar because you won't take my word for it!" the Brit yelled, trailing behind his lover.

"I believe you... slightly less now, but I believe you. I just want to see him." Francis opened the door to the nursery.

"Go see him then! I have nothing to hide!"

"He's so cute," Francis cooed, looking at his sleeping child.

"What?" the Englishman asked, not sure he heard right. He rushed over to the crib his husband was leaning over, and sure enough, Matthew was sleeping in it.

"Look at him. He's adorable," Francis smiled.

_He was not there the entire time. The crib was empty. This kid is part ninja. Great. Now, I'm raising a troll and a ninja. Every parent's dream._


End file.
